


The Same Position

by vaguelyfamiliar



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2017 Stanley Cup Final, Frottage, M/M, Pittsburgh Penguins, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-14 23:02:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16050368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaguelyfamiliar/pseuds/vaguelyfamiliar
Summary: ‘Ironic’ isn’t how Marc-André usually prefers his sex, but there’s a first time for everything.Well, not everything.





	The Same Position

**Author's Note:**

> I read [this](https://thesinbin.dreamwidth.org/3790.html?thread=4743118) prompt, and I thought “hey, that’s interesting.” And then I thought of it being about these two and I was like " _hey_ , that’s _really_ interesting.”
> 
> Set after the 2017 Penguins Cup win. I’m willfully ignoring the fact that Flower was a lot more sure about going to Vegas by this point in time. Slight warning for characters having to say no to performing a specific sexual act.

Marc-André is physically on top of Matt when they realize. Matt’s been doing everything right so far, murmured confessions that all add up to say _I’ve wanted this_. Stuff that’s hard for Marc to swallow.

“Gonna ride me?” Matt asks, a question only in theory and not in practice.

Wait—what the fuck?

“Um, what the fuck?” Marc-André coughs. “What made you think we were doing it that way? I’m on _top_ of you right now.”

“Yeah, but…you look like you’re about to take it,” says Matt. His biceps have gone still under Marc-André’s hands. He thrusts up weakly, like a point of evidence in debate class. And okay, his stiff dick _is_ rubbing up against Marc’s ass, but that’s a coincidence.

“No-no-no,” Marc answers. “I don’t ever do it like that.”

“Never? Are you sure? I could like, de- _flower_ you,” Matt tries, an ugly joke if there ever was one.

“You’ve done enough of that, thank you,” Marc-André says roughly, shoving him away and rolling onto the other side of the bed. Matt means it as a dumb pun, but Marc-André these days feels less and less like _Flower_ , the goalie who helped save the franchise, the future legend. There’s probably no mood killer more effective than being reminded that you were about to fuck the person who’s putting you out of a job, edging you out of your spot.

Or, he thought he was about to fuck Matt. Apparently Matt thought he was about to fuck Marc-André. But Marc-André’s been fucked enough by Matt Murray. He thought maybe he could have this one thing go the other way.

It was too much to hope for, as many of Marc’s aspirations have been recently.

He heaves a sigh, casts a speculative glance back Matt’s way. Maybe they can still get this together, if Matt can be convinced to play back-up to Marc-André again, just tonight. “I wanna be on top or nothing,” Marc-André tells him. “Take it or leave it.”

“I don’t bottom anymore,” Matt insists. “ _You’ll_ have to take it or leave it.”

It stings thoroughly because he’s right about that. And Marc-André is more inclined to leave it every day, despite all that he’ll be giving up.

But it’s not quite time for Marc-André to leave, though it will be soon. Matt lets his head flop limply back against the pillow. “The irony is too much here,” he observes. Then, thick with sardonic innuendo: “We play the same position.”

Marc-André barks a laugh, erupting out of him faster and more real than he could’ve expected. It reminds him that he does genuinely like Matt. That’s a lot of why they’re here at all, and he shouldn’t lose sight of it. It’s the only thing that soothes all the other petty burns that Marc-André has been collecting. And Matt likes Marc-André a lot too, he can tell.

 _He’s meant everything to me_ , Matt had said. It goes a long way in the face of Marc-André feeling like he doesn’t mean much to the Penguins’ stats, the front office, the Cup win. He means something to the team, he still knows. He means something to Matt.

Also, none of this is really Matt’s fault to begin with. It probably isn’t anyone’s fault directly, although Marc-André often childishly wishes for someone to blame. “I can’t believe we thought this would work,” Marc snorts in good humor. “It’s our job to avoid letting things between our legs.”

They giggle at that one in tandem.

“It could still work in other ways,” Matt argues as he lays a hand back on Marc-André’s thigh. He’s gone soft, and so has Marc, but that can be erectified. Rectified, he means.

And Matt pulling Marc-André flush against him, twisting to meet his body as an equal—a fleeting moment of being lined up in a way that pleases both of them. Yeah, that’ll do it.

Marc-André comes with his cock grinding on another and his face in Matt’s scruffy neck. It doesn’t _solve_ anything. But it makes him feel better for now.

Matt follows him over that ledge. Then he kisses Marc-André just once as an apology, a thank-you, a gift, and a send-off.

**Author's Note:**

> [Here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jtWg9dwtkTg#t=1m25s) is Muzz waxing on about how special Flower is. And [here](https://twitter.com/ArponBasu/status/874122676926808065) is the evidence that Muzz said Flower meant everything to him.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr as [quickxotic](quickxotic.tumblr.com).


End file.
